THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE 


City  of  Plague, 


AND 


OTHER  POEMS, 


BY 


JOHN  R.  BARLOW, 


AUTHOR  OF   "  JOHN'S  TRIP,  OR  A  VISIT  TO  NIAGARA," 
"THE  THREE   DEGREES,"  AC. 


NIAGARA  FALLS  : 
WILLIAM  POOL, 

GAZETTE  BUILDING. 

1873. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873. 

By  JOHN  R.  BARLOW, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


To 

L.  0.  BLIAL, 

OF  CHICAGO. 

DEAK  OLD  TIME  FRIEND  : 

My  Boyhood's  Pride ! 

Companion  of  youthful  glee! 
While  memory  dwells'  mid  scenes  of  yore, 

My  heart  goes  back  to  thee  ; 
And  youthful  hours,  when  innocence 

Ruled  every  thought  and  word, 
Come  to  my  heart  and  make  it  beat, 

As  when  in  youth  it  stirred 
In  throbbing  answer  to  the  tones 

Of  Friendship,  Love  and  Truth; 
Oh,  happy  hours  !     oh,  joyous  scenes  ! 

Oh,  grand,  immortal  youth  ! 
Yi  ar  after  year  may  come  and  go, 

As  wave  on  wave  doth  swell, 
But  memory  like  an  undertow, 
Brings  back  youth's  scenes  with  brighter  glow, 

Those  scenes  we  love  so  well, 
The  Sea  of  Life,  like  any  sea 

By  storm  is  often  tossed, 


And  many  barks  in  sunshine  launched, 

Are  in  the  tempest  lost; 
But  you  and  I  have  made  our  way 

Through  weather  fair  and  foul, 
For  though  we've  seen  Dame  Fortune  smile, 

We've  also  seen  her  scowl; 
She's  played  us  many  a  doleful  prank, 

Yet,  still,  we  sail  Life's  sea; 
You've  reached  a  calm  and  sunny  clime, 

While  storms  encircle  me; 
But  Fortune's  winds  may  make  a  shift, 

Or  something  turn  the  tide, 
And  you  may  be  surprised  some  day 

To  see  me  at  your  side; 
Till  then,  accept  this  tribute,  which 

An  humble  Poet  pays, 
To  Thee,  the  chief  of  youthful  friends, 
To  happy  scenes  of  olden  times 

And  joys  of  other  days ! 

JOHN  R.  BARLOW. 


CONTENTS. 


THE  CITY  OF  PLAGUE,  9 

THE  LAND  BEYOND  THE  TIDE,  -  -  39 
DEATH  OF  THE  OLD  YEAR  AND  BIRTH  OF  THE  NEW,  44 
WILL  YOU  MEET  ME  UP  IN  HEAVEN,  MOTHER  DEAR?  47 

OH  WHERE  HAVE  THE  ROSES  ALL  GONE?  50 

THE  NEW  LOVE,  52 

THE  CLOSING  OF  THE  DAY,          -  55 

DOWN  THE  AISLES  OF  TIME,  -          56 

WHY  THE  BABY  DIED,  -     58 

BREAKING  THE  ENGAGEMENT,  59 

THE  DAWN  OF  THE  NEW  LIFE,  61 

FROST  PICTURES,  62 

SUNBKAMS,  -         64 

IT  IS  NEVER  TOO  LATE  TO  MEND,  -                                        65 

ONLY  A  LITTLE  BRAID,  67 

A  LOVER'S  GREATEST  DISAPPOINTMENT,  63 

A  NOVEMBER  STORM,  -       71 

LIFE'S  HILL,  74 

YOU'LL  EVER  BE  YOUNG  TO  ME,  -     76 

DEARER  TO  ME,  79 

LAMENT  OF  THE  SAILOR'S  BRIDE,  -        81 

O'ER  BEYOND  THE  SHINING  RIVER,  83 

YES,  OR  NO?  85 

LOVE— SCORN*— DESPAIR,  87 

ON  THE  RIVER,                                              -  90 

THE  MUSIC  OF  THE  HEART,  -          93 

LIFE'S  WARP  AND  WOOF,  95 

THE  HEART'S  ANGUISH,              -  tf7 


THE  CITY  OF  PLAGUE. 


and  nil  was  black, 

The  brows  of  men,  by  their  despairing  light, 

Wore  an  unearthly  aspect,  as  by  fits, 

The  flashes  fell  upon  them.    Some  lay  down, 

And  hid  their  eyes,  and  wept;  and  some  did  rest 

Their  chins  upoia  their  clenched  hands,  and  smiled^ 

And  others  hurried  to  and  fro,  and  fed 

The  funeral  pile  with  fuel,  and  looked  up, 

With  mad  disquietude,  on  the  dull  sky, 

The  pall  of  a  past  world:  and  then  again 

With  curses,  cast  them  down  upon  the  dust, 

And  gnashed  their  teeth,  and  howled. 

—BYRON. 


In  a  valley  where  the  season 

Seemed  forever  summer  time, 
And  the  bright  and  golden  distance 

Showed  a  gorgeous  tropic  clime, 
Where  a  river  downward  rippling, 

Witji  its  murmur  soft  and  low, 
Filled  the  air  with  mellow  music, 

While  the  zephers  to  and  fro. 
Wafted  waves  of  sound  melodeous, 

As  the  wavelets  rose  and  fell, 
O  'er  the  silver  corded  beaches, 

Gemmed  with  pebble  and  with  shell 


10 


llose  a  city  in  that  valley, 

Where  from  dawn  till  dewy 
From  the  rising  to  the  setting, 

Did  the  sun  his  glory  weave  ; 
Ne'er  was  fairer  city  builded 

Than  that  city  of  the  vale, 
Nestling  to  the  grassy  bordeis 

Where  the  river  did  assail, 
Back  unto  the  graded  terrace 

Which  the  mountains  overhung, 
Where  the  echoes,  once  awakened, 

With  a  thousand  voices  rung. 


Dwelt  there  in  that  city  beauteous, 

Mortals  of  a  haughty  mien, 
Proud  of  birth  and  grand  possessions, 

Worldly  wise  and  worldly  vain  ; 
With  the  outer  world  no  converse 

Would  these  haughty  mortals  bold, 
Counted  they  themselves  more  worthy, 

Deigning  not  to  be  controlled  ; 
Deeming  that  themselves,  self  governed, 

Won  such  glory  and  renown, 
As  should  sound  through  all  the  ages 

Through  all  time  forever  down. 


11 


And  they  built  around  tbeir  city, 

On  the  East,  and  North  and  West, 
From  the  sun's  bright  place  of  rising, 

Westward,  to  his  place  of  rest, 
Only  on  the  South  their  city 

Had  no  wall  upbuilded  high. 
There  the  river  onward  gliding 

Gently  flowed  forever  by  ; 
And  its  waters,  pure,  pellucid, 

Like  some  victor's  burnished  shield, 
All  the  city  in  its  brightness, 

As  a  mirror  grand  revealed. 


And  two  gates  of  gorgeous  splendor, 

Brazen  built  and  grand  of  strength, 
At  the  East  and  West  they  builded 

Thus  to  mark  the  city's  length, 
Then  they  gathered  all  in  council 

A-id  gave  forth  this  one  decree  ; 
That  from  other  lands  and  rulers 

They  should  be  forever  free  ; 
Seeking  succor  from  no  nation, 

Giving  help  unto  no  land, 
Keeping  free  and  in  their  freedom 

They  forevermore  should  st 


On  the  hillsides  sheep  they  pastured,, 

In  the  valley  grain  they  grew, 
And  their  mills  were  ever  driven 

By  the  river  running  through  ; 
Rich  they  grew,  and  growing  richer 

They  forgot  their  rightful  God, 
Counted  every  call  to  duty 

As  a  seeming  tyrant's  rod, 
And  they  grew  to  be  ungodly, 

Called  Religion,  "  Idle  tale  :" 
Till  Charity,  at  last  forgotten, 

Was  unknown  within  the  vale, 


Yet,  withal,  they  seemed  to  prosper 

More  than  other  cities  round, 
For  within  their  walls  of  splendorr 

Plenty,  only,  could  be  found  ; 
While  a  Famine  came-  and  wasted 

All  the  cities  lying  near, 
Yet  their  granaries  were  bursting 

With  the  surplus  of  the  year, 
And  they  laughed  to  scorn  the  wretches 

Who  without  eacli  mighty  gate, 
Cried  for  bread  to  ease  their  hunger,, 

Begging  piteous,,  ear'  and  late. 


Night  and  morning,  from  the  dawning 

To  the  waning  of  the  light, 
From  the  deep'ning  of  the  shadowsj 

Through  the  watches  of  the  night, 
Morn  and  even,  noon  and  midnight, 

Round  that  city  in  the  vale, 
From  a  thousand  starving  mortals 

Came  that  ceaseless  piteous  wail : 
•'  Give  us  bread  !"     "  Oh  from  the  fulness 

Which  the  Lord  hath  given  you, 
Grant  a  rnite  to  fellow  mortals 

Let  us  not  thus  vainly  sue." 


But  within  that  gorgeous  city, 

On  the  ear  and  to  the  eye, 
All  unnoticed  stood  the  wretches, 

All  unheeded  fell  their  cry ; 
As  in  light  of  lavish  splendor 

Rolled  the  careless,  heartless  throng, 
WhiJe  the  hand  ot  Heaven,  unmindful, 

Seemed  to  be  withheld  too  long  ; 
And  as  louder  and  more  mournful 

On  each  new  succeeding  morn 
Grew  the  wail  without  the  city, 

Deep  and  deeper  grew  their  scorn* 


14 


And  the  gates  were  closed  and  guarded. 

While  along  the  river  side, 
There  their  sentinels  were  posted, 

So  that  every  one  who  tried 
For  an  entrance  to  the  city 

Might  be  caught  and  quick  expelled, 
Thus  the  throng  of  starving  creatures 

In  their  misery  vere  held 
From  the  fortune  favored  mortals 

All  aloof,  while  in  their  pride, 
All  the  woes  ot  those  around  them 

They  did  mock  at  and  deride, 


But  a  Prophet  rose  among  them, 

One,  a  man  of  heart  and  age, 
Who  through  all  the  streets  lamented 

Near  approaching  heaven's  rage; 
"  O  ye  dwellers  in  this  city 

Fairer  than  ere  erst  was  known, 
Think  ye  not  that  cries  and  prayers 

lieacheth  up   to  Heaven's  throne  ? 
And  that  multitude  of  wailers, 

Who  without  your  city  walls, 
Cry  for  bread,  and  retribution, 

Shall  iu  vain  repeat  their  calls?  " 


"  Thrust  him  out !  "  a  thousand  voices 

Cry  in  mingled  rage  and  scorn, 
"  Let  his  wailings  up  to  heaven. 

With  the  other  wails  Ve  borne. " 
And  without  those  gates  of  beauty, 

He  was  quickly  seized  and  thrust, 
And  no  friend  advanced  to  save  him, 

Nor  was  offered  him  a  crust : 
And  he  cried,  while  yet  the  hinges 

Creaked  the  closing  of  the  gate, 
"  Curst  above  all  cursed  cities, 

Ye  but  hasten  on  your  fate,  " 


And  without  that  guarded  city, 

Cruel  Hunger,  gaunt  ana  lean, 
Traced  his  lines  upotl  each  feature, 

In  each  shrunken  form  was  seen. 
Friend  from  friend,  would  turn  in  anguish, 

Seeking  each  his  pain  to  hide, 
Till  the  darkness  hid  each  feature, 

Then  they  sat  down  side  by  side. 
Side  by  side,  and  hand  hand  clasping, 

Through  the  long,  lone  hours  of  night 
Till  the  shadows  woke  and  vanished, 

At  the  call  of  morning  light. 


16 


But  from  'niong  each  group  of  watchers, 

At  the  waking  of  one  morn, 
Sadder,  deeper  and  more  mournful, 

Were  the  wails  of  anguish  borne. 
All  before  their  guest  was  hunger, 

Only  hunger  and  no  more, 
But  another  now  they  numbered, 

Which  they  had  not  known  before  ; 
Death  had  spread  his  poisoned  pinions, 

And  where  friends  at  eve  had  lain, 
Lay  but  corses,  thin  and  shrunken, 

That  should  never  wake  again. 


And  the  sound  of  lamentation 

Rose  upon  the  morning  air, 
And  their  hunger  seemed  forgotten 

While  beside  their  loved  ones  there, 
Knelt  the  living,  weeping,  wailing. 

And  the  air,  their  cries  did  fill, 
Till  at  evening  round  the  corses, 

Sat  the  living,  sad  and  still. 
For  they  knew  not  ere  the  morning, 

With  Deatirs  shadows  overhead, 
Who  of  them  would  leave  the  living, 

Who  of  them  would  watch  the  dead. 


IT 


And,  as  morning  light  appearing 

Kaised  the  vail  of  gloomy  night, 
Saw  the  watchers,  other  loved  ones 

Had  departed  with  the  night; 
Thus  continuing,  each  morning 

Saw  the  mourners  fewer  grown, 
"While  the  valley  with  the  mourned  for 

Was  each  morn  more  thickly  strewn, 
And  the  air  became  more  loathsome, 

More  and  more  as  days  wore  on, 
For  the  corses  all  unburied 

Lay  beneath  the  burning  sun. 


'  Neath  the  sun  they  lay  and  blackened, 

And  each  mourner,  hunger's  slave, 
Only  mourned  the  more  because  he 

Had  not  strength  to  dig  a  grave  ; 
Thus  they  lay,  no  strength,  no  motion, 

Lying,  dying,  day  by  day, 
While  the  corses  still  increasing 

'ISfeath  the  sun  did  more  decay; 
Till  at  length  the  air  becoming 

Charged  as  with  a  mist  of  death, 
All  remaining  soon  were  stricken, 

Breathing  death  with  every  breath. 


18 


Till  a  murmur  ran  among  them 

Indistinct  at  first  and  vague, 
Then  a  cry,  wild,  deep  and  mournful r 

"We  are  doomed  it  is  the  Plague! 
Then  arose  the  Prophet  trembling, 

As  his  limbs  beneath  him  fail, 
And  his  bony  finger  pointing 

T'ward  the  City  of  the  vale, 
Thus  he  cried:  "Oh,  City  scornful ! 

God  with  you  doth  now  engage; 
Thou  art  doomed,  and  I,  your  victim, 

Shall  be  bearer  of  his  rage !" 


"Up !"  he  cried  to  those  around  him, 

"Up !  I  give  you  God's  command," 
"Fear  ye  not  your  strength  shall  fail  you 

When  upheld  by  his  strong  hand; 
Look  upon  yon  gorgeous  City, 

Bright  above  it  are  the  skies; 
Dwell  therein  the  proud,  hard  hearted, 

"Who  have  heeded  not  your  cries; 
But  I  tell  and  tell  you  truly, 

All  their  grandeur  shall  decline, 
We  are  instruments  of  justice, 

Yengeance  saith  the  Lord  is  mine !" 


19 


"  See  yon  gate  of  strength  upbuilded, 

Doubly  guarded  night  and  day  ; 
See  yon  river  grandly  flowing, 

There  their  sentries  guard  the  way  ; 
See  yon  beetling  cliffs  overhanging 

On  the  north  the  city's  rear ; 
Guarded  thus ,  how  proud  their  bearing, 

Thinking  they  have  nought  to  fear  ; 
But  they  heed  not  in  their  folly 

That  a  road  doth  open  lie 
To  the  heart  of  their  fair  city 

Where  who  meeteth  us  shall  die," 


"Up  yon  steep  and  jagged  mountain, 

Down  from  thence  a  winding  path, 
Once  that  road  were  traveled,  all  their 

Power  cannot  stay  God's  wrath  ; 
In  our  veins  the  dreaded  Plague  tide 

Courses  wilder  every  Hour, 
And  when  once  we  gain  their  city 

Futile  all  their  boasted  power  ; 
For  we  carry  death  within  us, 

Every  breath  exhaled  shall  bear 
Death  and  mourning  to  each  hearthstone, 

Plague  and  horror  in  the  air. 


20 


Though  Plague  stricken,  two  arising, 

With  the  Prophet  upward  go  ; 
Though  their  breath  comes  faint  and  lainter, 

And  their  steps  are  weak  and  slow  ; 
Up  the  rugged  mountain  scaling. 

Upward,  westward  till  they  stand 
Just  above  that  fated  city, 

In  th°>  sunlight  bright  and  grand  ; 
And  the  waves  of  mellow  sunshine 

Gild  each  casement  with  their  glow, 
Bathing  in  a  golden  glory 

All  the  guarded  wealth  below. 


Spake  then  one  of  the  Plague  stricken  : 

•'  On  such  beauty  and  such  wealth. 
On  this  city  where  they  know  not 

But  of  happiness  and  health. 
Is  it  right  that  we  should  bring  them, 

Unsuspecting  every  ill, 
Death,  disease  and  dire  destruction, 

Every  home  with  woe  to  fill  ? 
Think  ye,  were  it  not  far  better 

That  this  mission  we  forego  ? 
'  Tis  but  death  if  here  we  linger  ; 

'  Twill  be  death  as  well  below." 


2J 


"  Oh !  ye  vacillating  mortal, 

Oh !  ye  form  with  puerile  heart, 
Dost  thou  dare  to  chide  Jehovah? 

In  His  vengeance  to  take  part 
Wouldst  thou  dare  refuse  ?     What  melting 

Of  their  hearts  was  there  for  thee? 
Wherefore,  thus  their  scorn  forgiving, 

Shouldst  thou  from  thy  duty  flee  ? 
Onward  1  downward !  death !  destruction ! 

Bearing  as  we  pass  along, 
Thus  repaying  all  their  scoriing, 

Thus  returning  all  the  wrong !" 


Then  adown  that  mountain  pathway. 

Slowly  with  a  trembling  pace, 
Through  the  streets  of  wealth  and  grandeur 

Till  they  gained  the  Market  Place; 
And  as  onward,  never  turning, 

They  their  weary  way  pursue, 
Halt  the  'habitants  in  wonder, 

Asking  each  if  these  they  knew  ? 
But  to  none  of  all  that  city 

Are  the  dying  strangers  known, 
As  they  press  to  end  their  journey, 

While  each  step  brings  forth  a  groan. 


"  Ho,  ye  strangers  to  the  city ! 

Whence,  and  wherefore  are  ye  come  ?" 
*'  Do  ye  come  from  up  the  valley  ?" 

"  Wherefore  silent  ?     Are  ye  dumb  ? 
But  the  strangers  never  heeding, 

Still  unanswering,  wend  their  way  ; 
To  the  right  or  left  not  turning, 

Heeding  not  what  passers  say  ; 
"  Hold  1"  cried  one,  "  I  know  their  leader, 

'Tis  the  Prophet  who  arose, 
Dooming  us  to  beggars'  curses 

If  we  heeded  not  their  woes." 


"  Are  the  gates  not  closely  guarded  ? 

And  the  river  side  as  well  ? 
How  then,  could  they  gain  the  city 

Here  their  cries  of  woe  to  swell  ?" 
*'  See  !  they  reach  the  city's  centre, 

There  they  halt  and  take  their  stand, 
Fearful  trio,  thin  and  shrunken, 

Grasps  each  bloodless  hand  a  hand," 
"  Oh  ye  wand'rers  lean  and  lanken 

Have  ye  come  from  'mongthe  dead?" 
"  List !  ye  scorners,  cease  your  scoffing, 

We  are  beggars  come  for  bread !" 


23 


"What?  beggars  in  our  city? 

Beggars  from  the  vale, 
"Where  daily,  without  ceasing 

They  tire  us  with  their  wail  ?" 
"  Was't  o'er  our  walls  so  mighty, 

Or  through  our  gates  so  strong, 
Or  by  the  river's  border 

Ye  made  your  way  along  ?" 
Neither  walls  nor  gates  nor  river 

Our  entrance  here  hath  shared, 
We  entered  here  at  God's  command, 

The  way  by  God  prepared." 


Then  through  the  streets  and  by-ways 

These  words  all  do  proclaim, 
"  Lo  !  in  our  Mart  stand  beggars 

To  mock  us  with  their  shame !" 
And  the  rich  and  lordly  masters 

Of  the  city,  passing  by, 
Laugh  in  scorn  and  shun  the  wTretches 

And  taunt  them  while  they  cry 
"  Oh  !  Prophet;  in  your  hunger, 

Where  now  your  boasted  power? 
Where  now  the  God  you  vaunted 

Could  crush  us  in  an  hour  ?" 


Thus  they  taunt  with  scorn  and  laughter, 

While  the  beggars  011  the  pave, 
Feel  the  stones  their  dying  couches, 

The  city's  fate  their  grave  ; 
See  the  mighty  of  the  city 

Unheeding  pass  them  by, 
"While  within  great  plenty's  circle 

They  lay  them  down  to  die ; 
See  the  daughter  of  a  million 

Gather  closer  up  her  dress, 
Lest  the  garment  touch  the  pavement 

"Which  a  beggar's  foot  doth  press. 


Thus  the  day  at  last  is  ended, 

The  night  wears  on  apace, 
And  morning  finds  them  standing 

Still  within  the  Market  Place. 
"  "What !  ho !  ye  guards  on  duty ! 

Who  keep  the  city's  gates, 
Thrust  forth  these  noisome  beggars, 

Their  fate  without  awaits  ; 
Behold  those  vultures  circling 

O'er  the  valley  far  away, 
Thrust  out  this  making  carrion 

And  give  the  birds  their  prey !" 


-25 


•**  Thrust  out  this  making  carrion? 

Yea,  thrust  it  out  who  will  ; 
Those  vultures  o'er  the  valley 

Will  wait  yet  longer  still." 
Thus  spoke  the  Prophet,  while  the  fire 

Of  vengeance  in  his  eye, 
Filled  those  with  dread  who  round  him  stood 

To  see  him  sink  and  die. 
And  thus  again  he  spoke  to  them;: 

"  Oh !  mortals,  cease  to  scorn, 
A  weight  of  woe  is  on  you  such 

As  ne'er  before  was  borne?" 


"God  blessed  and  gave  this  city 

A  plenty  over  all, 
Yet  when  he  asked  a  tithing 

Ye  heeded  not  his  call; 
"Without  your  gates,  his  people 

Lie  dying  day  by  day, 
What  penitence  of  empty  words^ 

Can  wipe  this  sin  away  ? 
But  penitence  ye  have  not  known, 

Nor  do  ye  know  it  yet; 
The  daily  woe  around  you  has 

Your  hearts  but  harder  set" 


"Then  hear  the  doom  Jehovah  sendsi 

For  all  your"  taunts  and  scorn, 
Your  city  of  its  glory  shall 

Forever  more  be  shorn ; 
1  spoke  to  you  the  warning  words, 

Ye  heeded  not  my  cry. 
But  with  the  ones  for  whom  I  plead 

Ye  thrust  me  out  to  die; 
And  now  God  sends  the  words  of  doom 

By  him  who  warning  gave, 
This  city  was  my  cradle,  and 

Her  dust  shall  be  my  grave  !" 


"Your  piles  of  monumental  wealth, 

Your  mansions  old  and  new, 
Whose  burnished  casements  in  the  sun 

Beam  brightly  to  the  view, 
The  gates  you  set  to  guard  your  wealth, 

Your  walls  as  grand  and  high. 
Shall  be  your  curse,  for  from  the  vale 

Through  them  you  may  not  fly; 
The  gates  by  power  than  yours  more  great 

Are  barred,  not  oped  shall  be; 
The  walls  shall  be  as  glass  to  those 

Who  by  their  way  would  flee." 


27 


"The  river,  where  your  sentries'  tread 

Is  echoed  night  and  day, 
Shall  be  to  you  a  boiling  lake 

To  bar  your  outward  way; 
The  mountain  wall  which  God  hath  set 

To  guard  your  city's  rear 
Shall  fill  your  hearts  with  deepest  dread, 

And  whelm  your  souls  with  fear  ; 
Those  mighty  crags  by  time  unmoved 

Your  fleeing  steps  assail, 
And  from  yon  frowning  brow  shall  sweep 

A  tide  of  molten  hail," 


"  Ye  think  my  words  are  idle,  all, 

And  vain  as  empty  air, 
Then  learn  that  every  word  is  truth, 

God's  vengeance  I  but  share  ; 
Behold  these  wretches  at  my  feet, 

Ye  think  they  lie  asleep, 
Yea,  so  they  do,  but  not  on  earth 

Shall  end  repose  so  deep  ; 
They  sleep  in  death  ;  oh,  endless  sleep ! 

No  power  death's  tide  can  stem  ; 
Come  gaze  on  death,  and  learn  to  die, 

Ye  soon  shall  sleep  with  them." 


"See  how  each  feature  hatli  been  racked 

"With  throes  of  agony, 
Come,  look>  for  in  your  veins  doth  roll 

The  curse  which  here  you  see  ; 
See  how  they  blacken  in  the  sun, 

Behold  the  fever  here, 
Within  my  veins  the  doom-tide  runs,. 

Ye  start  ?  'Tis  late  for  fear  ! 
"  Then  know."  and  here  his  voice  sank  low. 

(i  No  more  my  words  be  vague  ; 
My  hour  hath  come,  I  leave  with  your 

Mj  curse,  the  Eastern  Plague  !" 


Sank  his  voice  down  to  a  whisper. 

And  his  eyes  grew  glassy  dim, 
And,  upon  the  pave  down  sinking, 

Death  came  welcome  unto  him  ; 
Then  throughout  the  throng  around  hint 

Ran  a  thrill  of  mortal  fear, 
Face  with  dread  on  each  face  gazingr 

Saw  the  curse  imprinted  there  ; 
Each  from  each  in  horror  turning 

Seeks  his  home  in  haste  to  gain  ; 
All  too  slow  their  quickened  footsteps,. 

Late  their  fear,  their  haste  in  vain. 


As  the  course  of  streams  in  spring  time 

Are  increased  by  melting  snow, 
So  the  tide  of  life  in  fever 

Through  the  veins  doth  swifter  flow; 
As  the  streams  already  swollen, 

By  new  streams  are  further  swelled, 
So  the  blood  already  fevered 

By  the  Plague  is  more  impelled; 
Swift  and  wild,  and  wilder,  swifter, 

More  increasing  every  hour, 
Till  the  heart  at  last  consuming 

Sinks  beneath  the  lava  power. 


Thus  within  that  guarded  city, 

Ran  the  life  tide  faster  now, 
While  the  fever  gaining  fullness 

Stamped  its  impress  on  each  brow; 
Doors  were  barred  and  casements  bolted, 

Every  street  deserted,  drear. 
While  the  air  seemed  all  down  laden 

With  a  weight  of  deadly  fear; 
While  within  each  habitation 

Echoed  every  wall  the  cry, 
"Tis  the  hand  of  retribution, 

We  are  smitten,  and  we  die!" 


80 


And  when  night  with  sable  mantle 

Shrouds  the  city  with  her  gloom, 
Every  household  seems  enfolded 

By  a  pall  of  ray  less  doom; 
Every  light  burns  dim  and  dismal, 

Struggling  with  the  vaprous  air, 
Oh,  for  morning  !  oh,  for  sunlight ! 

Every  heart  repeats  the  prayer; 
Sunken  eyes  on  loved  ones  gazing 

Meets  but  with  a  wilder  stare, 
Burning  hands  press  fevered  foreheads, 

Horror,  horror  every  where ! 


Night  dies  !  oh,  death  of  dreary  stillness  ! 

Morn  wakes  !  oh,  birth  of  darkness  born  ! 
Better  for  night's  death  eternal, 

Than  the  birth  of  such  a  morn; 
Slowly,  as  if  loath,  the  darkness 

From  the  coast  of  morning  rolls. 
But  no  sunbeams  with  their  brightness 

Chase  the  phantoms  from  the  souls; 
Dull  the  sky,  a  leaden  dullness, 

Copper  tinted  here  and  there, 
As.  at  sea,  a  fire  far  distant, 

Horror,  horror  everywhere ! 


31 


O'er  the  valley  to  the  Eastward 

Rolls  the  mist  of  morn  away; 
O'er  the  valley  to  the  Westward 

Wakes  the  morn  to  beauteous  day; 
On  the  mountain  top  appearing 

Sport  the  sunbeams  bright  and  clear; 
O'er  the  plain  beyond  the  rivet 

Breaks  the  day  without  a  tear; 
Only  o'er  that  fated  city 

Are  the  shadows  overthrown, 
All  around,  the  day  is  brightness, 

Horror,  horror  there  alone  1 


Slowly  downward  from  the  mountain, 

Settling  like  H  funeral  pall, 
Rolls  a  cloud  of  noisome  vapor. 

Gathering  dampness  over  all; 
From  the  side  of  every  mansion. 

From  each  stone  in  every  wall, 
As  if  born  of  silent  weeping, 

Slow  the  vaprous  teardrops  fall; 
And  the  air  grows  close  and  stifling, 

And  each  casement  open  thrown, 
Lets  the  vaprous  horror  enter, 

Horror,  horror  there  alone* 


Now  a  wail  of  deepest  anguish 

To  each  ear  the  dampness  bears, 
Death  hath  made  his  formal  entry 

And  the  first  his  mantle  wears; 
Toll  the  bells  !  the  first  hath  answered 

To  the  Prophet's  dying  curse; 
Dig  the  grave  !  no  time  for  mourning  I 

Haste  and  call  the  burial  hearse; 
Toll  again !  another  answers  ! 

Ere  its  echoes  die  away, 
•Still  another,  and  another, 

Ceaseless  tolling  all  the  day. 


Now  once  more  the  darkness  falli-ig 

Ends  the  day,  but  not  its  woes, 
-Sombre  arch  1     Unbroken  darkness ! 

No  respite  and  no  repose. 
Death  holds  now  unhindered  revel, 

Soft  his  footsteps  tread  the  gloom; 
While  his  fingers  touch  the  toreheads 

And  his  victims  feel  their  doom; 
'On  the  morrow,  cease  the  tolling, 

'Tis  a  vain  and  useless  task, 
Death  hath  need  of  no  revealing, 

He  hath  lain  aside  his  mask. 


'Tween  the  darkness  of  the  midnight 

And  the  gloom  of  middle  day, 
Scarce  they  judge,  for  but  a  twilight 

Bears  the  awful  arch  away  ; 
But  through  every  street  and  by  way 

Falls  the  bearers'  ominous  tread, 
While  o'er  all  the  mighty  wailing 

Sounds  the  cry,  "  Bring  forth  your  dead  1" 
Oh  the  depth  of  untold  horror 

In  that  dread  appalling  sound, 
Is  there  no  escape,  no  succor  ? 

Can  there  no  release  be  found? 


Fire !  build  fires  throughout  the  city ! 

Where'er  street  crosses  street, 
There  let  the  bright  red  fire  flame 

The  Death  Plague  current  meet ! 
liaise  high  the  sparkling  altars, 

Nor  distance  long  between, 
Till  in  a  fire  gilt  border 

.Returning  life  is  seen  ; 
Till  from  our  beauteous  city 

The  death  cloud  rolls  away, 
And  from  our  night  of  horror 

Breaks  forth  a  brighter  day. 


34 


Then  to  light  the  flames  the}  hasten, 

That  the  Fire  Fiend, — who  in  wrath 
Knows  no  master — should  in  triumph 

Sweep  the  Plague  Fiend  from  their  path; 
And  as  up  the  flames  ascending 

Bears  the  vaprous  cloud  away, 
They  shout  deliverance  and  triumph 

From  and  o'er  the  Plague  Fiend's  sway  ; 
And  still  in  their  mad  excitement 

Raise  the  altars  higher  still, 
Till  a  mighty  flame  of  triumph 

Doth  the  whole  great  city  till. 


But  their  triumph  turns  to  sorrow 

And  their  joy  soon  turns  to  woe, 
For  the  power  they  call  to  save  them 

Doth  now  no  master  know  ; 
And  the  bright  flames  sweeping  higher 

Light  the  mansions  dull  and  grey 
And  the  Fire  Fiend  in  his  hunger, 

Claims  the  city  as  his  prey, 
And  the  'habitants  in  anguish 

This  new  ruin  doth  foresee, 
And  from  out  their  fire  doomed  city 

They  quickly  turn  to  flee. 


To  the  gate  they  wildly  hasten, 

But  the  bars  are  doubly  sure, 
They  have  melted  in  their  sockets, 

Are  immovably  secure. 
Then  they  bring  their  scaling  ladders, 

O'er  the  walls  to  make  their  way, 
But  their  efforts  all  are  futile, 

For  the  Fire  Fiend  holdeth  sway  ; 
O'er  those  walls  of  seamless  cement 

He  hath  caused  the  flame  to  pass, 
And  where  erst  had  stood  their  ladders 

Is  a  front  of  glist'ning  glass. 


Then  they  haste  to  gain  the  river, 

But  from  it  they  quick  recoil; 
For  the  flame  hath  lapped  its  border, 

And  its  waters  seethe  and  boil  ; 
But  one  other  way  remaineth 

To  escape  the  fervent  tide, 
Ere  the  red  tongued  tyrant  grasp  them, 

Up  the  steep  set  mountain  side  ; 
But  the  flame  sweeps  on  before  them, 

Bearing  terror  to  their  souls, 
For  ad  own  the  heated  mountain, 

Now  the  loosened  lava  rolls. 


And  the  flame  they  seek  to  flee  from, 

Licks  the  ground  their  feet  doth  tread, 
And  the  fiend  their  hands  did  summon, 

Their  bodies  now  hath  fed  ; 
Still  the  flames  swept  ever  onward, 

Surging  all  that  night  and  day, 
While  beyond  that  city's  borders 

Roll  the  burning  clouds  away  ; 
Till  where  hung  the  dark  Plague  shadow 

Like  a  pall  the  day  before. 
Hangs  the  sun  a  seeming  blood  spot, 

In  a  field  of  deeper  gore. 


And  every  form  and  substance 

Crumbled  'neath  the  fiery  wave, 
Till  the  dust  of  that  fair  city 

"Was  in  truth  the  Prophet's  grave, 
For  that  city  in  its  ashes 

Had  forever  gone  to  rest. 
Ere  the  sun  in  gory  brilliance 

Sank  adown  the  bleeding  west. 
MORAL. — Tis  a  tale  of  which  the  moral 

Forever  more  should  live  : 
If  God  unto  2/aw.hath,  given,. . 

'Tis  but  meet^that  you  should  give. 


39 


THE  LAND  BEYOND  THE  TIDE. 


I  am  thinking,  sadly  thinking 
Of  life's  joyous  happy  morn  ; 
Ere  my  heart  lay  mangled,  bleeding, 
By  its  sorrows  rudely  torn  ; 
And  my  spirit  sadly  turning 
To  those  happy  days  of  yore, 
Reads  in  anguish  on  their  pages, 
Joy  on  earth,  ah,  nevermore ! 
And  the  shadows  falling  darkly, 
That  sweet  promise  seems  to  hide, 
Of  a  happy  home  immortal 
In  the  land  beyond  the  tide. 


I  am  dreaming  of  the  maiden 
With  her  eyes  so  deeply  blue, 
Looking  out  a  faithful  index 
Of  the  heart  within  so  true, ' 
Thinking* of  her  heav'nly  beauty, 
And  her  wealth  of  tresses  bright, 


40 


She  a  picture  of  an  angel; 
In  a  frame  of  living  light; 
And  her  form,  as  in  a  halo 
Seeming  evermore  to  glide. 
Like  an  angel  sent  on  mission 
From  the  land  beyond  the  tide. 


I  am  thinking  of  the  sunshine 
"Which  like  glory  filled  my  heart, 
And  the  happiness  unbounded 
Seeming  of  myself  a  part, 
When  the  blessed,  sweet  assurance 
Was  by  her  unto  me  given, 
Over  power  of  death  to  triumph, 
Mine  on  earth,  and  mine  in  heaven ; 
And  my  spirit  backward  turning 
Sees  us  sitting  side  by  side, 
As  we  sat,  and  sang  together, 
Of  the  land  beyond  the  tide. 


Never  thought  I  then  of  sorrow, 
Never  heart  more  light  and  free, 
All  was  heav'n  to  me  on  earth  then. 
All  on  earth  was  hdav'n  to  me; 


41 


She  was  mine,  then,  and  mine  only, 
And  I  deemed  her  all  my  own, 
Oh,  sweet  dream  !  how  vain,  delusive, 
And  the  waking,  oh  how  lone  ! 
Cruel  death  my  claim  ignoring 
Sought  and  claimed  her  as  his  bride, 
And  an  angel  came  and  bore  her 
To  the  land  beyond  the  tide. 


Then  a  darkness  fell  upon  me, 
All  of  love  was  lost  to  me; 
And  I  sank  me  deeper,  deeper, 
In  a  sea  of  agony; 

And  my  soul  surcharged  with  sorrow 
Strove  the  dreamlike  bands  to  break, 
But  alas  !  the  dream  was  real, 
And  from  it  I  ne'er  shall  wake 
Till  I  reach  my  home  immortal 
On  the  far  off  thither  side, 
And  a  spirit  claim  nr)  angel 
In  the  land  beyond  the  tide, 


But,  between  my  spirit's  haven 


And  its  present  chafing  cell, 
Runs  forever  down  a  river 
With  a  mighty  roll  and  swell, 
And  my  spirit  gazing  wistful, 
Up  from  out  its  prison  bars, 
Sees  the  home  it  longs  to  enter 
Just  beyond  the  twinkling  stars;. 
And,  beyond  that  mighty  river 
Rolling  down  so  dark  and  wide,. 
Faintly  shines  the  terraced  glory 
Of  the  land  beyond  the  tide. 


And,  beyond  the  distant  outline 
Of  that  holy  mystic  shore, 
Rises  up  the  jeweled  city 
Which  shall  stand  forevermore  ! 
And  the  walls  of  purest  jasper, 
Shining  'neath  a  setless  sun, 
Tell  in  glowing  words  immortal 
Of  a  glory  just  begun; 
And,  my  spirit  wild,  rebellious, 
Scarce  its  destined  time  can  bide, 
Longing  so  to  see  the  glory 
Of  the  land  beyond  the  tide. 


But,  I  feel  that  soon  the  angel 
Will  return  to  set  me  free, 
And  I'll  journey  o'er  that  river 
To  the  home  prepared  for  me; 
Though  the  waves  forever  surging 
Sweep  tumultuous  o'er  my  soul, 
They  shall  riot  prevail  against  me 
As  they  madly  seethe  and  roll; 
For  I  know  that  when  I'm  sinking. 
I  shall  see  my  spirit's  bride, 
Reaching  down  Jier  hand  to  guide  me 
To  the  land  beyond  the  tide. 


44 


DEATH  OF  THE  OLD  YE AK  AND  BIRTH 
OF  THE  NEW. 


Mourn  !  mourn  !  a  friend  is  dead: 

The  Old  Year  is  no  more; 
Last  night  his  weary  spirit  fled 

Beyond  Time's  mystic  shore. 

We  mind  the  hour  when  he  was  born, 

A  laughing,  joyous  child; 
He  burst  upon  us  at  his  birth, 

With  spirits  light  and  wild. 

We  watched  his  tender,  tottering  steps 

Adown  the  glade  of  time, 
Till  birds  in  leafy,  springtime  bowers, 

Their  notes  of  praise  did  cl  ime. 

We  watched  his  firmer  youthful  steps 
Still  strong  and  stronger  grow; 

Until  we  saw  his  manhood's  crown 
'Neath  sun  of  summer  glow. 


45 


We  watched  his  onward  conquering  march, 

As  time  by  him  was  slain; 
But  woke,  too  soon,  alas !  to  note 

His  manhood  on  the  wane.  — ^ 


He  watched  him  tottering  on  the  verge; 

Then  saw  him  downward  turn 
To  lay  beside  his  kindred  dead 

His  ashes  in  the  urn. 


We  watched  him  down  the  silv'rv  tide; 

His  course  was  nearly  run; 
His  lab'ring  breath  came  faint  and  low, 

His  weary  task  was  done. 

We  watched  beside  his  dying  bed 
As  sombre  death  came  down; 

We  closed  his  eyes  and  turned  away 
To  feel  a  friend  had  gone. 

There,  in  the  tomb  of  ages'dead, 
He  slept  this  Sabbath  morn  ! 

Yet,  from  his  ashes,  Phoenix  like, 
The  glad  New  Year  was  born  ! 


46 


He  comes  to  us  with  smiling  face, 
With  mirth  arid  laughter  gay; 

Then  let  us  hearty  welcome  give 
On  this  his  natal  day. 

The  Old  Year  is  dead !  we  mourn  ! 

We  drop  the  kindred  tear; 
Yet,  shall  we  mourn  him  still,  and  weep, 

And  linger  at  his  bier  ? 


Old  friends  must  die  !  yet  new  ones  come 

E'en  ere  we  say  farewell; 
The  same  bells  chime  the  ]STew  Year's  birth, 

That  toll  the  Old  Year's  knell. 

Then  cast  all  draary  thoughts  aside, 

Begin  with  life  anew; 
What  if  our  life  a  dark  side  has  ? 

It  has  a  bright  one  too !  ' 

Then  hand  in  hand,  we'll  forward  press, 

All  care  we'll  throw  away, 
And  cheerful  start  with  life  anew 

This  joyous  JSTew  ISTew  Year's  Day! 
JAJSTUAKY  IST,  1871. 


47 


WILL  YOU  MEET  ME  UP  IN  HEAVEN", 
MOTHER  DEAR? 


Come  and  sit  beside  me  mother, 
Let  me  hold  your  hand  in  mine, 
Move  your  chair  a  little  nearer, 
So  the  setting  sun  may  shine 
On  the  hand  which  I  am  holding, 
As  it  falls  in  through  the  door, 
For  within  the  golden  sunshine] 
I  shall  never  see  you  more; 
And  I  want  to  ask  you.  mother; 
For  I'm  going  fai  from  here, 
Tell  me  truly  will  you  meet  me 
Up  in  heave-i  mother  dear  ? 

Will  you  meet  me  up  in  heav'n,  mother  dear  ? 
Mother  dear ! 

Will  you  meet  me  up  in  heav'n,  mother  dear  ? 
Where  the  angels  are  singing, 
And  the  sweet  notes  are  ringing, 

Will  you  meet  me  up  in  heav'n,  mother  dear  ? 


Raise  me  up  a  little  higher 
For  the  sun  is  setting  fast. 


48 


And  I  want  to  see  this  sunset, 
For  I  know  it  is  the  last 
We  shall  ever  see  together, 
For  those  clouds  within  the  west, 
Reaching  far  to  north  and  eastward 
In  their  golden  glory  dressed, 
Hide  the  pearly  gates  of  heaven 
Where  the  angels  all  have  met, 
That  are  coming  down  to  meet  me 
When  the  golden  sun  has  set; 

As  they'll  come  to  you  from  heaven, 
Mother  dear !  Mother  dear ! 

If  you'll  meet  me  up  in  heav'n,  mother  dear  ? 
Where  the  angels  are  singing, 
And  the  sweet  notes  are  ringing, 

Will  you  meet  me  up  in  heav'n,  mother  dear  ? 


See !  the  gates  are  moving  inward, 
Now  they're  standing  open  wide; 
I  can  see  the  crystal  river 
And  the  land  the  other  side; 
And  away  beyond  the  hillside 
Far  leeyond  the  other  shore, 
In  a  blaze  of  shining  glory 
Trembles  heaven's  inner  door; 


Do  not  hold  me,  dearest  mother, 

Do  not  fear  that  I  shall  fall, 

For  the  angels  now  are  with  me, 

And  I  hear  my  Savior  call; 
And  I'm  going  up  to  heaven,  mother  dear ! 

Mother  dear ! 
There  to  wait  for  you  in  heaven,  Mother  dear ! 

Where  the  angels  are  singing, 

And  the  sweet  notes  are  ringing, 
Come  aud  meet  me  up  in  heaven,  mother  dear ! 


50 


OH  WHERE}  HAVE  THE   ROSES    ALI, 
GONE? 


I  passed  by  the  cottage  today,  Jennie, 

So  cherished  in  inern'ries  of  you, 
And  gazed  on  the  vine  covered  porch,  Jennie,. 

Where  each  side  the  sweet  roses  grew; 
But  the  roses  are  faded  and  gone,  Jennie, 

The  cottage  deserted  and  lone, 
Oil !  why  has  it  changed  so  since  then,  Jennie? 

Oh  !  where  have  the  roses  all  gone? 


fcr 


In  the  days  fondly  cherisecl  by  me,  Jennie, 

Your  cheeks  with  the  roses  wexe  red, 
From  the  sparkle  which  dwelt  in  your  eye, 
Jennie, 

All  sorrow  and  sadness  had  fled; 
But  scarce  knowing  I  passed  you  to-day  Jennie, 

Your  cheeks  were  so  pale,  and  so  wan, 
Oh !  why  have  they   changed,  so  since  then 
Jennie  ? 

Oh  !  where  have  the  roses  all  gone? 

^.  wand'rer  I've  been  since  the  eve,  Jennie, 
~\f  e  said  our  farewell  at  the  gate, 


51 


feut  ofte"n  my  heart  has  gone1  tack,  Jennie* 
To  mourn  o'er  your  sad,  sad  too  late! 

But  my  wanderings  are  over  at  last,  Jennie^ 
I'm  returning  heartbroken  and  lone, 

And,  I  sorrow  to  think  I  have  come,  Jennie, 
To  find  that  the  roses  are  gone. 


In  reverie  often  I  sit,  Jennie, 

While  memory,  faithful  and  true 
Bears  me  back  to  the   days  which  are  goile 
Jennie, 

When  thus  I  sat  dreaming  with  yon; 
When  with  roses  the  pathway  of  life,  Jennie, 

By  fortune  was  lavishly  strewn, 
And  I  only  awake  from  those  dreams,  Jennie, 

To  find  that  the  roses  are^gone. 

Have  the  roses  ot  life  proved  to  yoii,  Jeririie, 

As  likely  to  fade  and  decay  2 
Has  the  view  of  the  future  yon  dre'w,  Jennie, 

Proved  shadow  and  faded  away  ? 
My  heart  goes  back  to  that  time,  Jennie, 

Through  the  years  that  swiftly  have  flowrij 
And,  I  cry  when  I  think  ot  those  days,  Jennie* 

Oh  1  where  have  the  roses  all  gone  ? 


52 


THE  NEW  LOYE. 


I  have  loved  and  been  forsaken, 

I  have  felt  my  heart  awaken, 
Waken,  from  its  dream  of  fancied  love  and  bliss; 

Now,  a  love  my  life  is  filling, 

All  my  soul  with  rapture  thrilling. 
For  my  former  love  was  nothing  unto  this. 


She  I  love,  is  free  from  guile, 
And  her  artless,  winning  smile 

Fills  me  with  a  love,  to  me  before  unknown; 
And  I  often  sit  and  ponder 
On  my  life,  and  sadly  wonder, 

Shall  I  ever  call  this  darling  one  my  own  ? 


Though  I  know  she's  not  a  fairy, 

Softly  tripping,   light  and  airy, 
Like  Camilla,  lightly  skimming  o'er  the  sea, 

Though  I  know  she's  not  a  JUNO, 

NOK  a  HEBE,  yet,  I  do  know, 
She's  the  fairest  of  earth's  daughters  unto  me. 


Though  the  Nightingale  when  singing, 

Fills  the  morn  with  sweet  notes  ringing, 
Sounding  through  the  summer  air  so  lightly  clear; 

Yet  his  song  so  sweetly  trilled, 

Cannot  move  my  heart  once  filled 
"With  a  melody  to  me  more  sweet  and  dear. 


In  her  eyes,  the  love-light  beaming, 

Fills  me  with  a  nameless  dreaming 
Of  the  future,  and  what  it  may  bring  to  me; 

And  a  hope  is  through  me  thrilling, 

All  my  soul  with  rapture  filling, 
But  yet,  something  whispers,  it  can  never  be ! 

Oh  !  my  love  should  not  be  hoarded, 

Could  there  be  to  rue  accorded 
Such  a  boon  as  mortal  never  won  before. 

Though  this  hope  I  fondly  cherish, 

Yet,  I  fear  that  it  will  perish, 
And,  I  think  of  being  friends,  and  nothing  more. 

And  my  soul  in  anguish  crying, 
Sees  its  airv  castles  lying, 
Dashed  in  ruins,  by  a  single,  mighty  "  NO  I" 


54 


And  the  rays  of  sunlight  cheering, 
In  life's  sky  and  disappearing, 
As  their  place  is  filled  by  clouds  of  life-long  wo'e. 

Oft,  I  find  the  tears  are  falling; 

At  the  thought,  so  dear,  appalling, 
And  I  feel  already  wrecked  upon  life's  shore; 

As  the  waves  which  now  uphold  me, 

Seem  upreaching  to  enfold  me. 
With  the  words  forever  sounding — Love  no  more ! 

Yet,  take  courage  he^rt,  I  pray; 

Ever  darkest,  'tis,  ere  daj; 
Morning  light  may  break  athwart  life's  sky  again'  { 

And,  my  soul  may  feel  the  glory 

Of  that  oft  repeated  story, 
Loving  and  beloved : — In  truth,  and  not  in  vain. 


55 


THE  CLOSING  OF  THE  DAY, 


Twilight  shadows  gather  round  me, 

'Tis  the  evening  of  the  day, 
And  the  thoughts  of  care  which  bound  me, 

"With  the  sunlight  pass  away; 
And  the  holy  hour  of  evening, 

Round  me  casts  it's  \ritching  spell, 
As  the  zephyrs,  perfume  laden, 

Steal  apast  me  through  the  dell, 


As  I  watch  the  twilight  fading, 

Watch  the  stars  as  they  appear, 
Tfius,  me  thinks,  my  life  is  waning, 

And  life's  evening  drawing  near; 
,A.nd  the  holy  calm  of  twilight 

Folcleth  o'er  life's  setting  sun,' 
I  murmur  not  at  knowing 

Life's  sad,  weary  day  is  done, 


56 


DOWN  THE  AISLES  OF  TIME. 


Down  the  Aisles  of  Time  with  wistful  eye 

We  gaze  on  the  scenes  of  the  past, 
And  memory  glides  'mid  the  spectral  forms 

Of  shadow  behind  us  cast; 
And  we  sorrow  to  find  so  much  of  life 

Lying  wasted  along  the  way, 
Made  up  of  the  moments  heedlessly  lost 

Ou  our  journey,  day  by  day. 


Down  the  Aisles  of  Time,  where  our  weary  feet 

Leave  their  prints  on  the  way  side  sand, 
We  are  pressing  on  in  the  March  of  Life 

For  none  may  idle  stand ; 
Each  moment  of  time  is  a  precious  gem 

We  should  guard  \vhatever  the  cost: 
Let  us  watch  the  jewels  so  when  life  shall  end 

We  can  say  that  none  are  lost. 

Down  the  Aisles  of  Time  outstretching  afar 
To  the  future,  dark,  unknown, 


-57 


We  strive,  with  OUT  eyes,  to  pierce  the  vail. 

Which  God  in  mercy  lias  thrown 
O'er  the  trials  we'll  meet,  alas !  full  soon, 

For  to  each  is  lotted  a  share, 
Yet  be  not  dismayed  for  there  cometh  to  none 

Aught  more  than  his  strength  to  bear, 

DOWR  the  Aisles  of  Time  still  our  footsteps  tend 

As  life's  mystery  we  explore, 
And  ere  long  we  shall  reach  that  farther  end, 

Leading  out  to  the  golden  shore; 
And  soon,  the  dark  vail  will  be  lifted  up 

So  the  light  of  our  home  we  may  see, 
And  soon,  we  shall  pass  from  the  Aisles  of  Time 

To  a  grand  eternity. 


58 


WHY  THE  BABY  DIED. 


Why  did  the  baby  die?  weep  not  fond  mother! 

E'en  though  thy  treasure  be  gone  from  thee; 

Thou  knowest  not  from  what  pain  and  sorrow 

Thy  babe,  an  angel  now,  is  free. 

But  thou  did'st  love  her  so  ?  Ah,  yes,  fond  heart ! 

E'en  with  a  mother's  purest,  truest  love, 

But  though  thy  love  was  great,  a  greater  still 

Dwells  with  the  Lord  of  Heaven  above. 

Thy  babe  was  very  fair,  and  sweet,  and  mild, 

God  wanted  her  to  dwell  with  him, 

To  sing  hosannas  with  the  angel  throng, 

And  swell  the  ranks  of  cherubim. 

Look  round  about  thee  through  the  earth,  and  see 

What  makes  each  home  so" gladly  bright, 

Is  it  not  the  babes,  who  fondly  twine  around 

Each  heart,  filling  them  with  happy  light? 

God  took  thy  babe  to  wear  an  angel  crown, 

To  make  his  home  more  bright  and  fair; 

God  sends  the  babes  to  gladden  earth, 

Yet,  earth,  her  babes  with  heaven  must  share; 

For  what  kind  of  heaven  would  heaven  be, 

If  there  were  no  little  angels  there  ? 


59 


BREAKING  THE  ENGAGEMENT. 


Dear  love  !  'tis  just  a  year,  to-day, 

You'll  mind,  since  first  I  met  you, 
That  meeting  made  me  for  all  time 

All  poweiless  to  forget  you; 
And,  as  we  grew  acquainted  more. 

More  binding  seemed  your  graces, 
And  deep  within  my  heart  I  found 

Your  image  leaving  traces. 

You  mind  that  eve  I  told  my  love, 

I  drew  you  to  me  nearer, 
You  pressed  your  lips  to  mine  and  said 

None  to  you  could  be  dearer; 
That  was  a  happy  hour  indeed, 

All  earth  to  me  was  heaven, 
Oh,  precious  troth !  from  soul  to  soul, 

By  lips,  in  kisses,  given. 


The  days  on  wings  of  love  flew  by, 
Long  happiness  unbroken, 


Tlie  bridal  day  was  named  by  theer 
Oh,  joy  to  me  when  spoken  1 

The  day  has  come;  this  is  the  morn>; 
Alas  a  day  of  mourning, 

For  oh  !  you  ask  me  for  release; 
Thy  freedom  thus  returning. 

Oh,  surely,  love,  you  cannot  know 

The  task  you  are  imposing,. 
This  is  the  end  of  all  my  joy, 

My  future,  dark,  disclosing; 
But  if  you'd  have  me  let  you  gor 

"Why  I  of  course  must  let  you; 
And  if  you  wish  me  to  forget, 

Why  hang  you,.  Pll  forget  you! 


61 


THE  DAWK  OF  THE  NEW  LIFE. 


I  have  waited  in  the  shadow 

While  my  life  tide  ebbed  away, 
Gazing  through  the  shrouding  darkness 

For  the  dawning  of  the  day; 
Long  and  dark  hath  been  the  night  tirner 

Long  and  dark,  aye,  dark  and  dreary; 
Ever  watching  for  the  dawning, 

Sad  and  loner  and,  oh  !  so  weary  ! 


But  the  night  at  last  is  ended. 

And  the  vigil  now  is  o'er, 
For  the  light  of  life  eternal 

Lifts  the  darkness  evermore; 
And  the  angel  of  the  Morning 

Back  the  mystic  vail  is  holding, 
And  my  weary  eyes  grow  brighter 

As  the  new  life  is  unfolding. 


62 


FROST  PICTURES. 


There  are  pictures  on  the  window 

Traced  in  crystal  veins; 
Light  frosted  on  the  window, 

Frosted  on  the  panes; 
And  as  I  gaze  upon  them, 

Strange  forms  by  me  are  seen, 
As  if  some  Fairy  spun  them 

With  waft  of  silver  sheen. 


I  see  the  home  of  childhood, 

I  feel  the  joys  I  knew, 
1  wander  in  the  wildwood 

Where  scented  wild  flowers  grew; 
And  through  my  heart  is  thrilling 

A  gentle,  mystic  spell, 
My  soul  with  rapture  filling 

Beyond  my  pow'r  to  tell. 

I  wander  in  the  old  lot 

Among  the  new  mown  hay, 


I  gaze  into  those  blue  eyes 
Where  lovelight  used  to  play; 

I  feel  again  the  sorrow 
J  felt  when  forced  to  part, 

Alas  !  the  long  to-morrow 
That  fell  upon  my  heart. 


And  tears  are  coursing  down  my  cheek 

For  joys  that's  lost  to  me. 
Joys  of  which  I  dare  not  speak, 

And  joys  I  only  see 
In  pictures  on  the  window,  . 

Traced  in  crystal  veins, 
Light  frosted  on  the  window, 

Frosted  on  the  panes. 


SUNBEAMS. 


Oft  the  clouds  full  dark  and  drear, 

Shroud  the  summer  da}7; 
Falling  like  a  sombre  pall, 

Drives  the  light  away; 
But  the  sunshine  comes  again 

With  it's  smile  of  cheer, 
And  the  little  sunbeams  dance 

Earthward  light  and  clear. 


So  it  is  all  through  our  life, 

Sorrow's  clouds  come  down, 
Shrouding  from  our  hearts  the  light, 

Bringing  many  a  frown; 
But,  the  clouds  must  sometime  break, 

Then  perchance  will  stray, 
Brighter  for  the  storrn  that's  past, 

Sunbeams  o'er  life's  way. 


65 


"IT  IS  NEVER  TOO  LATE  TO  MEND." 


There's  a  maxim  quite  old,  but  yet  it  is  good, 

And  one  you  should  keep  in  your  mind; 
It  will  ease  you  of  many  a  troublesome  thought, 

If  you  but  obey  it,  you'll  find; 
This  maxim  though  old  will  ever  be  new, 

And  still  to  the  right  it  will  tend; 
I  give  it  to  you  as  I  found  it  myself, 

"It  is  never  too  late  to  mend  1" 


Ye  Bachelors  grim  whom  folly  hath  led 

To  a  singular  waste  of  your  life, 
It'll  just  suit  your  case  I'm  sure  you'll  allow, 

And  may  help  you  in  getting  a  wife; 
"What  matter  though  you  have  been  jilted  in  youth 

That's  a  dart  Cupid  often  will  send; 
So  while  you  bewail,  keep  this  maxim  in  mind, 

"It  is  never  too  late  to  mend !" 


Ye  angular  Maids  of  forty  or  so 
Pray  don't  give  the  battle  up  yet, 


There  ne'er  was  a  stocking  but  mated  a  shoe, 
And  doubtless,  a  husband  you'll  get; 

For  beauty  is  made,  and  age  you  can  hide, 
And  sense  to  your  smiles  you  can  lend; 

With  a  scrub,  rub  and  dub,  keep  this  maxim  in 

mind, 
"It  is  never  too  late  to  mend !" 

Ye  wretches  whose  hearts  are  as  hard  as  the  flint 

And  crusted  all  over  with  sin, 
Here's  a  chance  to  redeem,  don't  cast  it  aside 

But  to  mend  all  your  ways  pray  begin; 
There's  a  chance  you'll  allow  that  death  may  step  in 

And  bring  all  3  our  schemes  to  an  end, 
Bo  haste  to  reform  with  this  maxim  in  mind, 

"It  is  never  too  late  to  mend  !" 

But,  not  to  go  over  the  whole  human  race 

And  string  out  a  mile  of  advice, 
I'll  speak  to  you  all  both  aged  and  young 

And  give  you  rnv  mind  in  a  trice; 

O  */  «.' 

(If  you  will  but  listen  a  moment  to  me 
And  to  take  my  advice  condescend,) 

And  this  shall  be  it,  pray  keep  it  in  mind, 
"It  ia  never  too  late  to  mend  !' 


C7 


ONLY  A  LITTLE  BRAID. 


Only  a  little  braid  ! 
Not  a  golden  tress 
With  sunlight  beaming  o'er 
To  claim  a  wild  caress; 
Not  a  siken  curl 
Gracefully  falling  down, 
Only  a  little  braid, 
Plain,  and  dark,  and  brown. 


Only  a  little  braid  ! 
Yet,  oh,  how  dear  to  me  ! 
And  oh,  what  scenes  of  joy 
It  brings  to  memory  ! 
Not  all  the  jeweled  wealth 
"Within  a  kingly  crown 
Could  buy  my  little  braid, 
Plain,  and  dark,  and  brown. 


68 


A  LOVER'S  GREATEST  DISAPPOINT 
MENT. 


When  ADAM  first  in  Eden 

Began  to  live  in  bliss, 
His  happiness  was  incomplete 

Until  he  got  a  Miss; 
But  when  fair  EVE  was  given 

His  happiness  was  full, 
Yet,  o'er  his  loving,  simple  eyes 

She  soon  did  draw  the  wool. 


How  pleasant  must  have  passed 

The  golden  hours,  when  they 
Among  fair  Eden's  bowers 

Had  nought  to  do  but  stray; 
And  when  at  eve  they  wandered  forth 

How  happy  was  their  fate, 
With  no  old  folks  to  grumble 

If  they  came  in  too  late. 

No  doubt,  poor,  simple  ADAM 
Was  happy  as  could  bef 


69 


I  know  just  how  he  must  have  felt, 

It  once  was  so  with  me; 
But  ah !  poor,  trusting  lover, 

Though  centuries  have  flown, 
My  heart  goes  back  in  pity,  for 

His  case  was  just  my  own. 


He  went  on  eve  to  see  her, 

I'm  sure  'twas  Sunday  eve, 
And  asked  her  out  to  take  a  walk, 

Alas  !  for  him  I  grieve; 
For,  while  he  sat  beside  her 

Engaged  in  loving  talk, 
Old  Nick  himself  came  smiling  up 

And  took  her  out  to  walk. 


With  what  a  jealous  anger 

His  bosom  must  have  filled, 
When,  to  use  a  homely  saying. 

He  found  his  milk  was  spilled; 
How  heavy  must  have  been  his  heart 

As  homeward  he  did  go, 
Oh  !  ADAM  I  can  pity  you, 

For  I  have  felt  just  so  ! 


70 


And  ever  since  that  evening, 

A  Sunday  eve  I'm  sure; 
The  deepest  woe,  the  sharpest  pang 

That"  mortal  can  endure, 
Is  when  he's  sitting  by  his  love, 

Engaged  in  loving  talk, 
To  have  some  other  fellow  come 

And  take  her  out  to  walk. 


71 


A  NOVEMBER  STORM. 


Hear  how  the  wild  tempest  wails, 

And  fierce  assails 
The  firm-set  walls,  and  loudly  calls, 
As  if  to  alarm 

Us,  safe  from  harm. 


How  it  madly  rushes  past, 

Blast,  after  blast; 

With  sigh  and  moan,  and  shriek  and  groan, 
How  the  sorrow  swells 

It  never  tells. 


Creep  close  to  the  sparkling  fire, 

That  leaps  up  higher 
With  wild  delight  this  dismal  night, 

As  if  'twould  engage 

The  Storm  King's  rage. 


let  the  fierce  tempest  whirl ! 

And  madly  hurl 
Its  blinding  darts  at  \veaker  parts, 

We're  housed  safely  here, 
We  have  no  tear. 


Wail  out  your  sad  sorrow  winds, 

That  seeks,  but  finds 
!No  place  of  rest,  no  haven  blest 

Where  you  may  alight 

This  dreary  night! 


Pour  now  on  each  rattling  pane, 

Oh  ceaseless  rain; 
While  storm  imps  leap,  and  revel  keep, 

On  each  shrinking  sash 

O 

Your  torrents  dash ! 


Hark ! — was  that  human  cry  ? 

A  moan,  or  sigh, 
Borne  on  the  air  in  wild  despair 

From  some  sinking  form 
Out  in  the  storm  ? 


Hush  ! — it  may  come  again, 

Let  silence  reign ! 

No! — not  again,  the  thought  was  vain, 

'Twas  the  tempest's  shriek, 
Or  fancy's  freak. 

List !  the  rain  has  ceased  to  pour; 

The  winds  no  more 
Xheir  revels  hold,  but  lie  controlled 

By  the  Master's  will, 

That  "Peace,  be  still" 


LIFE'S  HILL. 


To  the  hill!     to  the  hill! 
To  the  hill  together  ! 
Hearts  all  joyous,  light  and  free 
In  life's  Spring-time  weather  ; 
Fiery  Youth  with  footsteps  light, 
To  the  hillside  tending, 
Eager  to  be  on  the  way, 
Eager  for  ascending. 

Up  the  hill !  Tip  the  hill ! 
Up  the  hill !  together! 
Manhood,  every  care  surmounts 
In  life's  Summer  weather; 
Faith  sublime,  and  steadfast  will, 
In  bright  rapture  blending, 
Hand  in  hand,  and  heart  to  heart, 
Each  other  firm  defending. 


Down  the  hill !  down  the  hill  I 
Pown  the  hill  together  ! 


75 


Hand  in  hand  to  reach  the  foot, 
In  life's  Autumn  weather; 
Weary  of  the  toil  and  care, 
'  Neath  the  years  now  bending, 
Dreaming  dreams  of  happy  youth, 
On  the  way  descending. 

From  the  hill  J  from  the  hill ! 
From  the  hill  together  ! 
Faded  now  youth's  visions  bright, 
In  life's  Winter  weather; 
Feeble  Age  with  step  infirm 
From  the  hillside  tending, 
Seeking  only  in  the  vale, 
Best  when  life  is  ending. 


Tff 


YOU'LL  EVEK  BE  YOUNG  TO  M£f 


You  have  asked  if  I'll  ever  be  truer 

If  my  heart  will  never  change. 
If  I'll  ever  be  leal  to  you 

As  through  the  world  we  range; 
You  say  that  age  will  furrow  thy  brow,- 

That  your  step  will  feeble  grow, 
But  to  me  you^ll  be  just  the  same  as  now, 

No  change  in  thee  I'll  know, 

For  you'll  ever  be  young  to  me,  darling, 

You'll  ever  be  young  to  me; 
Though  age  may  furrow  thy  brow, 

And  thy  step  may  feeble  grow, 

No  change  in  thee  I'll  know 
But  ever  the  same  as  now, 

For  you'll  ever  be  young  to  me,  darling,- 

You'll  ever  be  young  to  me. 


You  fear  that  I  will  inconstant  prove, 
That  my  words  are  false  and  vairr«, 
That  in  after  years  you'll  loee  my  love. 


That  my  heart  you'll  not  retain; 
iBut  though  age  may  turn  to  silv'ry  white1 

Rippling  waves  of  beauteous  gold, 
And  your  eyes  may  lose  their  lustre  bright 

And  friends  may  call  you  old, 

Still  you'll  ever  be  young  to  me,  darling. 

You'll  ever  be  young  to  me; 
Though  age  may  furrow  thy  brow, 

And  change  the  rippling  gold, 

To  me  you'll  not  grow  old 
But  ever  the  same  as  now, 

For  you'll  ever  be  young  to  me,  darling, 

You'll  ever  be  young  to  me. 


And  as  we  journey  along  through  life 

Mid  the  thoughts  of  "Auld  lang  Syne,'' 
We'll  lover  like  clasp  our  hands  my  wife, 

On  the  verge  of  life's  decline; 
Then  shed  no  tears  for  the  future  years, 

You'll  ever  be  young  to  me, 
And  be  not  troubled  by  idle  fears, 

I'll  ever  be  true  to  thee, 

For  you'll  ever  be  young  to1  me,darling^ 


78 


You'll  ever  be  young  to  me; 
Though  age  may  furrow  thy  brow, 

And  thy  step  may  feeble  grow, 

No  change  in  thee  I'll  know 
But  ever  the  same  as  now, 

For  you'll  ever  be  young  to  me,  darling. 

You'll  ever  be  young  to  me. 


79 


DEAEER  TO  ME. 


Oh  !  the  sailor  may  tell  of  the  wealth  to  be  found 

In  the  depths  of  the  ocean  vast, 
Of  the  coral  and  pearl  that  shine  on  the  shore 

When  the  storm  and  tempest  are  past; 
But  the  sparkling  gems  that  tremble  in  light, 

May  lie  in  their  native  sea, 
For  a  glance  from  the  eyes  of  the  one  I  love 

Is  dearer  by  far  to  me ! 


Oh !  the  sages  may  tell  of  the  wealth  to  be  found 

In  the  pages  of  ancient  lore, 
Of  the  glorious  feast  of  prose  and  of  rhyme 

As  they  con  their  volumes  o'er; 
But  the  wealth  that  lies  hid  in  the  old  time  script, 

No  matter  how  rich  it  may  be, 
Cannot  equal  one  word  from  the  lips  I  love, 

That's  dearer  by  far  to  me  ! 

Oh  !  the  miser  may  count  o'er  his  hoarded  gains, 
And  gloat  o'er  his  golden  store, 


And  gather  his  wealth  with  a  trembling  hand 

From  every  clime  and  shore; 
But  the  golden  gleam  that  hardens  his  heart, 

He  is  welcome  to  keep,  and  free; 
For  a  beaming  smile,  from  the  one  I  love, 

Is  dearer  by  far  to  me ! 

Oh  !  Princes  may  tell  of  their  gorgeous  courts, 

Of  their  palaces,  grand  and  high, 
Of  their  gardens  and  parks,  outstretching  afar, 

So  pleasing  to  royal  eye; 
But  their  palaces  grand,  their  fields  and  parks, 

I  care  not  to  have,  nor  see; 
For  a  simple  cot  with  the  one  I  love, 

Is  dearer  bv  far  to  me  !  ,/ 


LAMENT  OF  THE  SAILOE'S  BEIDE. 


On  fliis  lone  sea  shore, 

"Where  the  wild  waves  roar, 
And  dash  up  their  beaten  spray, 

Here  I  sit  forlorn, 

From  the  early  mora 
Till  the  close  of  each  weary  day; 

Here  I  wait  and  "vveep, 

And  my  lone  watch  keep, 
"While  the  waves  in  their  bounding  glee 

Chant  a  wild  refrain, 

As  I  watch  in  vain 
For  a  form  that  is  lost  to  me. 


For  beyond  the  wave, 

In  his  island  grave, 
"Where  the  wild  floweis  a  bower  have 

There  he  sleeps  alone 

In  the  grave  unknown, 
Wliereliis  messmates  their  comrade  laid; 


82 


And  recks  not  that  I 

Ever  sit  and  sigh, 
Looking  out  from  this  lone  sea  shore, 

Keeping  watch  in  vain 

O'er  the  mighty  main, 
For  a  form  that  will  come  no  more. 


83 


O'ER  BEYOND  THE  SHINING  RIVER. 


O'er  beyond  the  Sinning  River, 
There  the  angels  sweetly  sing; 
And  the  souls   immortal  quiver 
With  the  melodies  that  ring; 

Ever  singing, 

Gently  ringing, 

Angels  chant  their  sweetest  lays, 
Of  a  Lord  and  Saviour  risen, 
Ceaseless  songs  of  endless  praise. 


O'er  the  river,  safely  anchored 
On  that  bright  and  golden  shore, 
There  the  good  and  blessed  are  singing 
Praise  to  God  forevermore; 

Weary  mortals 

Through  the  portals 
Press  to  join  the  joyful  throng, 
As  the  friends  who  went  before  thorn 
Gladly  beckon  them  along. 


84 


See  the  countless  number  swelling,. 
Coming  from  the  world  below; 
See  the  beams  of  heavenly  sunlight 
Make  the  waters  brighter  glow  ; 

There  gloomy  fears- 

And  sorrow's  tears 
Shall  ne'er  again  be  known, 
bought  but  joy  and  gladness  ever 
Shall  be  felt  ia  that  bright  home. 


Surely  death  is  not  so  dreary, 
If  the  hope  we  only  cherish 
That  the  toil  worn  souls  so  weary 
Though  in  death  can  never  perish; 

But  shall  gain 

For  every  pain 

A  glorious  recompense,  far  more 
Than  enough  to  pay  the  toiling 
When  they  reach  that  Golden  Shore. 


85 


YES,  OE  NO? 


Dearest  love !  if  when  the  sun 
His  diurnal  course  had  run, 
And  the  evening  had  begun 

After  summer's  sunny  glo\v; 
When  through  all  the  golden  west, 
Fleecy  clouds  in  amber  dressed, 
Soft  proclaimed  the  hour  of  rest 

To  the  night  advancing  slow; 
Should  I  in  the  witching  gloam, 
From  thv  woodland  cottasre  home, 

*/  O 

Ask  tliee  lovingly  to  roam, 

Wouklst  thou  answer  yes,  or  no? 

Did  you  thus  consent  to  stray 
In  the  pleasant  twilight  grey, 
At  the  closing  of  the  day, 

With  the  moon  uprising  slow; 
And,  if  by  thy  prescence  blessed, 
Wild,  entranciugly  I  pressed 
To  my  heart,  and  fond  caressed 

Thy  bwoet  form,  ray  love  to  show; 


86 


If  upon  a  time  like  this, 

In  an  ecstacy  of  bliss, 

I  should  ask  thee  for  a  kiss, 

Wouldst  thou  answer  yes,  or  no? 


Still,  if  lovingly  we  strayed 
In  the  pleasant  sylvan  shade, 
Where  the  boughs  dependent  swayed, 

Gently  sighing,  soft  and  low; 
Or  if  in  the  silv'ry  beam, 
In  a  wild,  ecstatic  dream, 
All  the  world  to  me  did  seem 

Centered  in  thy  weal  or  woe; 
When  my  arm  did  round  thee  twine, 
With  my  hand  enclasping  thine, 
Should  I  ask  thee  to  be  mine. 

Wouldst  thou  answer  yes,  or  no  ? 


87 


LOYE— SCORN— DESPAIR. 


LOVE — 

Evening  star  appearing 
As  tbou  seemest  Hearing, 
Hast  thou  aught  endearing? 

Hast  thou  aught  for  me  ? 
Gentle  zephyr  winging. 
Love  tuned  anthems  singing 
Tell  me,  art  thou  bringing 

Auo;ht  that's  dear  to  me? 

o 

River,  ne'er  returning, 
"With  thy  voice  of  mourning, 
Tell  me,  art  thou  scorning 

While  i  ask  of  thee? 
Ever  onward  flowing, 
"Whence  and  where  no  knowing, 
Hast  thou  heart  for  showing 

Pity  unto  me  ? 

SCORN — 

At  the  morning's  waking, 
Whou  the  day-  woe  breakiag 


88 


Came  no  maiden  making 

Thee  her  page  to  me  ? 
When  the  sun  was  soaring, 
Hour  of  noontide  scoring, 
Sent  she  nought  restoring  ( 

To  my  soul  by  thee  ? 
"When  the  day  was  waning, 
And  the  night  was  gaining, 
Was  no  word  sustaining 

Sent  from  her  to  rue  ? 
Was  no  token  given  ? 
Have  I  vai-ily  striven  ? 
Must  my  soul  be  driven 

On  in  agony  ? 

DESPAIR — 

Ah  !  thy  mournful  moaning 
Is  all  hope  dethroning, 
As  the  deep  detoning 

Onward  rolls  from  me  ; 
She  hath  sent  but  scorning 
To  my  words  love  burning, 
River,  ne'er  returning, 

Bear  me  ou  with  thee ! 
Heart,  thy  wormwood  drinking, 


"Why  this  coward  shrinking 
From  the  slight  unlinking  ? 

What  is  life  to  me  ? 
From  her  bitter  scorning, 
With  my  useless  mourning, 
Kiver,  ne'er  returning, 

Thus  I  go — with  thee ! 


90 


ON  THE  KIVER. 


On  a  river  where  the  sunshine 
'Mong  the  silver  ripples  played, 
And  the  flower  scented  zephyrs 
Fitful,  wild  and  witching  played, 
By  the  breezes  gently  wafted, 
Sailed  a  comely  youth  and  maid: 

Spake  no  word,  but  sailing  there, 
Built  their  castles  in  the  air. 


He,  the  lover,  manly,  noble, 

She,  his  idol,  sweetly  fair; 

They,  both  listless,  idle  dreamers; 

But  no  threads  of  wordly  care 

Wove  they  with  the  golden  texture 

Of  their  castles  in  the  air, 

As  they  sailed  that  summer  day, 
Only  youthful  dreamers  they, 

But  the  lover  gazing  fondly 
On  the  maiden  by  his  side 


01 


Whispers  words  of  love  endearing, 
As  they  gently,  onward  glide; 
Pouring  out  heart's  fondest  treasures, 
Seeking  nought  from  her  to  hide. 

Love  light  o'er  his  features  stealing, 
All  his  wealth  of  love  revealing^ 

Thus  he  spoke,  his  love  outpouring, 
"  On  the  river  of  our  life, 
In  the  sunshine,  in  the  shadow, 
In  life's  elemental  strife, 
Whether  joyous  all  our  journey. 
Or  with  storm  clouds  it  be  rife, 
All  thy  gladness  let  me  share, 
Allthv  sorrows  let  me  bear," 


"Ere  I  answer,"  said  the  maiden, 

"'One  small  favor  1  implore, 

As  we're  drifting  idly  onward, 

Scarcely  moving  from  the  shore; 

This  I  ask:  your  patience  craving, 

Teach  me  how  to  pull  an  oar ! 
Nothing  losing,  I  may  gain, 
Though  the  wish  may  seem  but  vain." 


To  this  wish  so  strangely  seeming 
He  sought  not  to  answer  nay, 
But  the  oar  still  holding  firmly, 
Tought  her  how,  and  showed  the  way, 
Rowing  onward  down  the  river 
On  that  sunlit  summer  day; 
Till  at  even's  golden  glow, 
She  herself  the  boat  might  row. 


Then,  the  maiden  smiling  sweetly, 
Thus  her  answer  to  him  gave: 
'•On  the  river  of  our  life,  love, 
Fortune  kissing  every  wave, 
Trust  and -teach  me  in  the  sunshine 
How  to  act  when  storms  shall  rave; 

Then,  when  wild  winds  beat  the  shore* 
I,  perchance,  may  pull  an  oar  1" 


93 


THE  MUSIC  OF  THE  HEART, 


In  each  heart  there  ever  vibrates 

To  each  voice  a  tuneful  chord, 
And  there  sounds  the  sweetest  music, 

Trilled  by  ever  loving  word; 
Like  the  barp,  each  separate  chofdlet 

Has  its  own  peculiar  range. 
And  each  word,  as  it  is  graded, 

Makes  the  music's  tuneful  change. 


Sometimes  there  arise  discords, 

When  the  chords  of  love  are  crossed 
By  a  voice  that's  toned  in  anger, 

And  love's  melody  is  lost, 
As  the  heart  strings,  dumb  and  tuneless, 

Yibrate  voiceless  to  and  fro, 
And  the  cadence  dies  to  silence 

While  the  tear's  notes  noiseless  flow. 


But  the  sweetest,  purest  music 

Which  the  heart  chords  evei  sound, 


94 


And  in  which  all  other  love  notes 
Die  away  in  sweetness  drowned, 

Is  the  chord  that's  touched  in  kindness 
By  the  dearest  love  of  life, 

And  the  power  to  trill  that  chordlet 
Is  but  given  to  a  Wife. 


Other  voices  may  be  gifted 

With  a  sweet  melodeous  tone, 
But  their  notes  may  be  forgotten 

And  become  to  us  unknown, 
AVhile  that  silver,  silken  chordlet 

Thrills  forever  all  through  life, 
Wnen  one  word,  in  love  tones  given, 

Falls  upon  it  from  a  Wife, 


95 


LIFE'S  WARP  A1STD  WOOF, 


Our  life  is  a  gorgeous  tapestry. 

And  we  weave  it  day  by  day; 
And  the  threads  will  run 
And  the  form  be  spun 
Let  us  weave  it  as  we  may. 


Each  coming  joy  is  a  golden  thread 
And  we  merrily  pass  it  through; 
And  we  watch  it  shine 
As  we  gladly  twine 
The  golden  glor}  true. 


a  sorrow  comes  and  our  aching  hearts 
Beat  slow  as  we  weave  it  in; 

And  we  will  not  know 

That  our  earthly  woe 
Makes  brigther  the  crowns  we  win, 


But  we  only  soo  the  earthly  warp, 
God  from  us  the  woof  doth  hide, 
And  where  shadows  lie 
To  our  earthly  eye 
.It  is  light  on  the  other  side. 


"97 


THE  HEART'S  ANGUISH. 


I  have  wandered  long  and  lonely, 
Dreaming  of  the  time  when  only 
Love  and  gladness  filled  my  heart, 

Filled  my  heart  with  brightest  joy; 
When  no  thought  of  woe  corroding, 
All  my  life  was  downward  loading 
With  an  undefined  foreboding 

Of  the  cankerous  alloy 
Which  the  world  at  large  was  filling, 
Hopes  and  joys,  forever  killing, 
As  a  demon  grim  distilling 

All  the  essences  of  woe, 
Poured  his  murd'rous,  vap'rous  potions, 
Making  hellish  dark  commotions 

In  the  inmost  soul  of  man, 
Till  he  curses  all  his  being, 

Curses  heav'ns  mighty  plan 

O'er  each  pain  extorted  throe. 


Oh !  those  mem'ries  ever  falling 
On  iny  heart  still  keep  recalling 


All  on  earth  I  had  to  love, 

All  on  earth  I  loved  and  lost ! 
And,  my  anguished  heart  still  throbbing, 
Ever  throbbing,  dully  throbbing, 
Seems  the  torture  racked  sobbing 
Of  a  soul  all  tempest  tossed; 
And  my  spirit  in  its  groaning. 
Still  is  moaning,  ever  moaning, 
Every  hope  of  jo    dethroning, 
Sinking  deeper  in  its  woe; 
All  the  awful  horror  drinking, 
All  the  past  and  present  linking 

In  a  horrible  design, 
Gloats  in  frenzy  o'er  the  picture, 
O'er  the  picture  that  is  mine, 
And,  tnat  only  I  may  know. 


Oh !  the  deep  and  mighty  anguish 
"Wherein  now  my  sonl  doth  languish ! 
With  no  ray  of  happiness, 

With  no  hope  foreverniore; 
And,  despaii  now  falling  round  me, 
In  its  endless  chain  hath  bound  me, 
While  the  demon  still  doth  wound  me 


To  my  heart's  deep  inmost  core. 
Oh,  the  deep  abyss  appalling, 
Into  which  my  soul  is  falling, 
Where  the  loathsome  vipers  crawling 

Deep,  and  deeper  make  my  woe ! 
And,  my  soul  in  horror  starting 
From  the  baleful  glances  darting 

Through  each  lava-flooded  vein, 
Strives  to  mount  from  out  the  horror, 

Striving,  but  to  fall  again, 

While  the  fiends  their  thriumph  show. 


Oh,  ye  fiends  in  triumph  yelling ! 
On  my  heart  your  vict'ry  knelling, 
In  your  wild  demoniac  glee 

Tearing  at  my  heart-strings  sore; 
With  your  fiery  glances  flashing, 
All  my  soul  with  torture  lashing, 
Like  a  whip  of  scorpions  gashing, 

Gashing,  deeper,  more  and  more; 
Oh,  ye  demons  hear  my  moaning  ! 
Hear  my  horror  haunted  groaning ! 
With  a  might)  deep  detoning 

Of  a  mournful,  ceaseless  woe: 


See  my  hands  to  you  outreaching' 
In  a  frantic  wild  beseeching. 

Hear  the  pray'rs  I  madly  pour  t 
Some  respite  from  this  mad  torture, 

Grant  me,  grant  me  I  implore  ! 

To  my  soul  some  mercy  show ! 


Oh,  ye  hellish  fiends  ungranting  ! 
In  your  demon  glory  panting, 
I  have  sued  to  you  for  nought, 

Supplicated  you  in  vain; 
For,  your  breasts  with  rapture  swelling^ 
Feel  a  glory  in  thus  kneeling 
Doom,  unto  my  ear  thus  telling 

All  its  agony  and  pain; 
Oh,  ye  fiends  of  hell  infernal ! 
With  your  pow'r  almost  supernal, 
Reaching  through  all  time  eternal, 

Here  I  mock  you  with  my  woe  f 
Here  I  tear  my  soul  asunder, 
Tell  to  you  in  tones  of  thunder 

I  defy  you  ! — This  I  tell, 
"While  the  mighty  tones  resounding 


101 


Shout  defiance  thro'  all  hell, 
Which  to  you  in  scorn  I  throw. 


Kow,  the  waves  of  hell  outpouring 
O'er  my  soul  are  madly  roaring, 
And  they  seethe,  and  roll,  and  roar, 

With  a  mighty  monotone ! 
And  each  word  from  hence  ascending, 
From  my  heart  now  stricken,  bending, 
'Neath  its  load  for  life  unending 

Can  be  nothing  but  a  groan; 
And  this  awful  deep  desparing, 
And  this  fiery  torture  tearing, 
At  my  soul  forever  wearing 

Its  unchanging  mantle,-— woe 
Forces  from  my  heart  wild  beating, 
This  one  angusihed  cry  repeating 

Up  to  heaven,  down  to  hell; 
Shall  eternity  but  be 

To  my  heart  a  fun'ral  knell, 

Shall  1  never  mere}  know  1 

Oh,  thou  God  above,  all  seeing  I 
Oh,  thou  Author  of  my  being  ! 


102 


Hear  my  supplicating  moan, 

Hear  my  wild  despairing  cr3T ! 
At  thy  throne  in  suppliance  kneeling, 
All  my  heart  to  Thee  revealing, 
Hear  my  frantic,  wild  appealing, 

Save  me,  Maker,  or  I  die  ! 
All  my  wrongs  to  Thee  now  bringing, 
And  to  Thee  now  only  clinging, 
"While  the  angels,  ever  winging, 

Bear  aloft  my  weight  of  woe, 
Up,  from  out  my  dark  surrounding, 
From  the  darts  my  heart  still  wounding, 

Lift  me,  lift  me  I  implore  ! 
Up  from  out  the  hadean  darkness, 

Lift  my  soul  forevermore  ! 

And  thy  mercy  to  me  show ! 


What  ? — my  weary  burden  lightens, 
And  my  darkened  spirit  brightens, 
Hast  thou  heard  me,  oh,  Jehovah ! 

Hastthou  heard  my  soul  worn  cry  ? 
Yes  !  I  see  thy  mercy  bending, 
Like  a  halo  bright  descending 
From  a  love  that  knows  no  ending. 


103 


From  its  fountain  head  on  high; 
And  my  spirit  upward  bounding, 
Up,  from  out  its  dark  surrounding, 
Song  of  praise  to  Thee  is  sou-id  ing 

As  it  mounts  from  out  its  woe. 
And  my  praises  up  ascending, 
Shall  from  henceforth  know  no  ending, 

But  eternally  shall  sound 
One  continuous  mighty  anthem 

For  this  peace  unending  found, 

Which  now  o'er  my  soul  doth  flow. 


,  and  o'er  my  senses  stealing, 
Comes  that  gentle  calm  revealing 
Of  a  heaven  given  peace, 

Of  a  peace  forevermore; 
And  my  soul  its  sweet  rest  gaining, 
And  the  heav'n  nectar  draining, 
Sees  its  mighty  anguish  waning 

And  its  praise  it  doth  outpour; 
And  the  heaven  ever  nearing 
Sendeth  forth  its  sunlight  cheering, 
And  diy  sorrow  disappearing 

Leaves  no  semblance  of  the  woe 


104 


That  hath  now  no  power  o'er  me, 

For  within  the  land  before  me 
There  can  enter  no  alloy, 

To  be  mingled  with  the  glory 

Of  that  pure  and  endless  joy, 

Which  my  soul  shall  henceforth  know. 


THE  END: 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


Bar  Inw   - 


The  city  of 

pl-gue. 


PS 

1065 
B2i;7c 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001374596    3 


